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"enforces" poems
1373 The worthlessness of Earthly things The Ditty is that Nature Sings— And then—enforces their delight Till Synods are inordinate—
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The worthlessness of Earthly things
This is the mountain I'm climbing Due to circumstantial timing The triumphant peaks change over time Just one of this mountain's many crimes The rocks on this mountain are flawed But the mountain is flawless Nature enforces restrictive laws So my life becomes lawless Through this insanity I can't find my humanity It's gagged and bound In the lost and found On this lonely hill Where I get my fill It's an uphill battle Getting above this mountain My conscience rattles My eyes pour like a fountain When I see everything suddenly Like halos hovering Over my past Lying dead in the grass Sometimes I must traverse a log to go over a bog Then I must do the inverse to go under the smog There are countless endeavors Through varying weather That leave me very confused And frantically panicked This mountain provides a view Of the entire planet This mountain made of dust I scale because I must Stillness develops rust When cliffs await us I see dead pioneers on the ground I see weary travelers all around I see fellow climbers as brothers Unless I see them as a lover Then I want to go cave exploring Before my grave ends the story Things should get weird If banality is to be feared In order to make a mark Even if it's in the dark To be perfectly candid This mountain is my canvas I carve my face in it as I go up But my face changes as I grow up So I start swag jacking The backpacking Mirror macking Confidence lacking Mountain attacking Climbers So I can find a crevasse to fit into This mountain is easy to give in to
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Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 12:20 AM UTC
Mountain
This is the mountain I'm climbing Due to circumstantial timing The triumphant peaks change over time Just one of this mountain's many crimes The rocks on this mountain are flawed But the mountain is flawless Nature enforces restrictive laws So my life becomes lawless Through this insanity I can't find my humanity It's gagged and bound In the lost and found On this lonely hill Where I get my fill It's an uphill battle Getting above this mountain My conscience rattles My eyes pour like a fountain When I see everything suddenly Like halos hovering Over my past Lying dead in the grass Sometimes I must traverse a log to go over a bog Then I must do the inverse to go under the smog There are countless endeavors Through varying weather That leave me very confused And frantically panicked This mountain provides a view Of the entire planet This mountain made of dust I scale because I must Stillness develops rust When cliffs await us I see dead pioneers on the ground I see weary travelers all around I see fellow climbers as brothers Unless I see them as a lover Then I want to go cave exploring Before my grave ends the story Things should get weird If banality is to be feared In order to make a mark Even if it's in the dark To be perfectly candid This mountain is my canvas I carve my face in it as I go up But my face changes as I grow up So I start swag jacking The backpacking Mirror macking Confidence lacking Mountain attacking Climbers So I can find a crevasse to fit into This mountain is easy to give in to
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56
"Don't stop dreaming" crooned a voice in my ear But dreaming re-enforces fear Slumber comes and shreds my thoughts Subconscious wars are brought and wrought. Inside my skull holds evidence of Bruised purples and nightmare reds Sleep shreds my mind between its teeth And wretches it across; bequeath Across the walls, across the room Across the shadows, through the gloom
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Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
Just Sleep
Some call it karma Others see it as fate The truth of the matter? It's still up for debate Our only option I'd say We must examine all fact Then decide for ourselves ...each ones impact On one hand theres KARMA some say it's a ***** Usually the opinion of the immoral ...those living selfishly rich With FATE they believe each is destined at start That everyones born into a roll With no say in their part Lets pretend for a moment that this theory is so The impact id say... we already know This leaves no purpose to give with no reward for sharing It' s followers create a world that can exist without caring Then theirs others, like myself, with a whole different view We believe in doing unto others... as you'd have done to you The rules by which we live enforces giving to get And the feeling of helping is something we can never forget Our destiny is determined by the path that we choose A world without conscience is one destined to lose And each time its paid foward the reward is so great... Thats my argument at least on this long lasting debate
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Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
Pay It Forward
wandering across the splinters of squandered seasons the Hajj of the lost ones completes a broken circle returning with hope to burrow back into the safety of desecrated graveyards welcomed home to the embrace of a cadaverous cloak and the kiss of carrion smudged lips, Hajji's eye the decrepit visage of criminal depravity germination of this Arab Spring mocks us aromas of jasmine elude us emulsified concrete clogs our nostrils burning eyes filled with asbestos dust form grateful blinders to the ruination of reason betrayed arcane remnants of our life lay inert in the open ****** of fractured habitations amidst jumbled rubble the decaying carcasses of razed buildings boast grotesque sculptures of twisted rebar cradling artifacts of a past life pink hair curlers splashed with sickly blood grown mold scavenged bicycles limp on banished parts smashed skulls of dolls weep, her dismembered limb reaches for a lost child’s nursing hand the charred remains of a Persian rug maps the scale of a city’s deconstruction and a frayed regions disconsolation electric luxury flowing water the friendly bustle of the street bespeak expired memories foretelling an unimaginal future sectarian strife enforces  a communal solitary confinement in cold blood we willingly murdered compassion we butchered trust we euthanized our common humanity constructing buildings is easy rebuilding ourselves impossible Music Selection: Segovia, Capricho Arabe Oakland 5/13/14 jbm
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Return to Homs
You will be the first and last, There will never be another. You will be my Superman, I will continue to wait. You will smile at her, I really shouldn't complain. A simple text brought the pieces back together, Took 24 hours before the damage was done again with the pain multiplied. "I miss you" left such incredible feeling knowing my name had been thought of, 24 hours later my name had to be erased from your thoughts. True love doesn't keep from desires, True love enforces them. If it's someone you miss, A hug is what you seek. Never say "I miss you", If 24 hours will turn to "I'm leaving you." "Dont worry about it even if I have to go i'll still watch over you, you won't be alone." Yet walk away in times of agony. Anger isn't true to me, I am not angry, I never will be. I am merely a fountain, Tears will flow upon my wishes slowly transforming me from fountain to well. From fountain to well, Drowning in my own self pitty. Never begging for sympathy but always longing your company. Goodbyes don't sufice, Hellos won't come by. The daily trip to an empty mailbox will haunt my existence till death parts me from it. Letters expected, None collected. Smiles anticipated, None reflected. Lyrics turned to memories, Songs become a life story. In those songs I feel you closer, In those songs you're here with me. I must say you are the playlist and the soundtrack to the greatest memories and worst pain to feel. I am merely a fountain becoming a well, My tears are for you. I bid you farewell. -Kathia Mariana Landeros
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Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
From Fountain to Well
You will be the first and last, There will never be another. You will be my Superman, I will continue to wait. You will smile at her, I really shouldn't complain. A simple text brought the pieces back together, Took 24 hours before the damage was done again with the pain multiplied. "I miss you" left such incredible feeling knowing my name had been thought of, 24 hours later my name had to be erased from your thoughts. True love doesn't keep from desires, True love enforces them. If it's someone you miss, A hug is what you seek. Never say "I miss you", If 24 hours will turn to "I'm leaving you." "Dont worry about it even if I have to go i'll still watch over you, you won't be alone." Yet walk away in times of agony. Anger isn't true to me, I am not angry, I never will be. I am merely a fountain, Tears will flow upon my wishes slowly transforming me from fountain to well. From fountain to well, Drowning in my own self pitty. Never begging for sympathy but always longing your company. Goodbyes don't sufice, Hellos won't come by. The daily trip to an empty mailbox will haunt my existence till death parts me from it. Letters expected, None collected. Smiles anticipated, None reflected. Lyrics turned to memories, Songs become a life story. In those songs I feel you closer, In those songs you're here with me. I must say you are the playlist and the soundtrack to the greatest memories and worst pain to feel. I am merely a fountain becoming a well, My tears are for you. I bid you farewell. -Kathia Mariana Landeros
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42
walking through the big flea market off of highway 19 north of Tampa looking for whatever and something curious and kitsch or campy merchants selling in the parking lot used blenders and old cameras burnt out or faulty devices DVD cases and game cartridges old rednecks shout out opinions in a cacophony of drawled signifiers representing visions of despotic rulers reigning a tyranny of taxes and decline old glass containers and windshields shine scattering high afternoon sunlight in the Sunday sky sitting and resting used and content waiting waiting for the wear and reduction of time the market continues into indoor aisles criss-crossing within a ramshackle structure plywood walls supporting sheet metal roofing an aroma of every greasy food wafting into one people wrapped in worn fashions whites in Ts and denim muslim women in headscarves a black deputy strapped down in uniform the deputy enforces commerce laws around the alternative marketplace a variety of commodities are still available bongs and e-cigs and incense and **** **** parakeets cry out down one aisle a stack of blue aquariums drone a bubbling hum the stench of cedar and rat **** and hamsters reptiles basking in the arid glow of heat lamps all is right in America’s America the flea market is the floorboard of that promise an opportunity for anyone to begin or start again and over and over a liberal conservatism can be guarded well with rifles or tazers at bargain rates a conservative liberalism is applied openly in the atmosphere of everyone for anything and everything the dream of the flea market a black market and a carnival all of America’s cheap art on display its people swirled into one equal in their struggles and desires reaching for resources and derivatives buying low and selling higher stealing and selling short walking through the big flea market on a hot and cloudless Sunday afternoon looking for whatever or something it’s a fun thing to do originally posted to my blog https://sublimeobscenities.wordpress.com on 4/27/2014
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
flea marketing
walking through the big flea market off of highway 19 north of Tampa looking for whatever and something curious and kitsch or campy merchants selling in the parking lot used blenders and old cameras burnt out or faulty devices DVD cases and game cartridges old rednecks shout out opinions in a cacophony of drawled signifiers representing visions of despotic rulers reigning a tyranny of taxes and decline old glass containers and windshields shine scattering high afternoon sunlight in the Sunday sky sitting and resting used and content waiting waiting for the wear and reduction of time the market continues into indoor aisles criss-crossing within a ramshackle structure plywood walls supporting sheet metal roofing an aroma of every greasy food wafting into one people wrapped in worn fashions whites in Ts and denim muslim women in headscarves a black deputy strapped down in uniform the deputy enforces commerce laws around the alternative marketplace a variety of commodities are still available bongs and e-cigs and incense and **** **** parakeets cry out down one aisle a stack of blue aquariums drone a bubbling hum the stench of cedar and rat **** and hamsters reptiles basking in the arid glow of heat lamps all is right in America’s America the flea market is the floorboard of that promise an opportunity for anyone to begin or start again and over and over a liberal conservatism can be guarded well with rifles or tazers at bargain rates a conservative liberalism is applied openly in the atmosphere of everyone for anything and everything the dream of the flea market a black market and a carnival all of America’s cheap art on display its people swirled into one equal in their struggles and desires reaching for resources and derivatives buying low and selling higher stealing and selling short walking through the big flea market on a hot and cloudless Sunday afternoon looking for whatever or something it’s a fun thing to do originally posted to my blog https://sublimeobscenities.wordpress.com on 4/27/2014
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53
I keep help close to you Three numbers away So that if you are in need I will be there I am a savior I keep you healthy With quality care So if you are sick I will be there I am a nurse I educate you Through years of monotony So if you face a problem I will be there I am a teacher I protect your rights From unnamed terrors So if you are in danger I will be there I am a protector I am a savior Who enforces laws Arbitrarily I am a nurse Who heals you with Poison I am a teacher Who educates with Propaganda I am a protector Who saves you from Nobody I am Big Brother
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
I Am (Big Brother)
drones wrapped up in the expansive botnet of this black facility prone to repeat all of last week's protocol in sequence and without passion (the big guy enforces it all) I'm bored eye-scanner rejects me twice fingerprint authentication prove who I am beat that proof into the day a cup of Joe at lunch half crop-circles under these eyes yet you'll still hear me say I'm bored. the beat goes on, the beat goes on the singsong klak-ing of whatever whatever a beautiful voice comes over the speakers ironic she's the only one talking and it's a pamphlet talk about where we all already work. I'm bored.
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May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
Facility
God is kind to me My heart is not bleeding. My nose is but flowing And my naywe paining. But WHO enforces Unbalancing tricks . . . ?
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
Glory to God
racing           bark and froth tok  -   toy  -   tok beating    against the clock the insistent derange    against time                only    enforces    the medium
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Mar 8, 2024
Mar 8, 2024 at 4:17 PM UTC
01 1011
The illusion of elegance, copied from her mother. Childhoods left undealt with, but she wears her traumas around her neck in that beautiful southern style passed down from her mother. Enforces her new rules, ignoring the past that got her there for a new sense of priority. Her pearls are lost, sold long ago by someone else, and she has forgotten what they stood for.
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Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 10:57 AM UTC
Pearls
The black folk have lost their mends, The Asian man lost his sense. The white woman lost her wealth, The native fam lost they land. The middle eastern have lost their hope, The Porto Ricans have lost their stand. Maiyan people made a calender, Curious people called it pretend. Egyptians had built the pyramids, We called it aliens. Donald enforces police brutality, Why is he president. Tupac got shot for screaming peace, Martin luther, the same deal. Fake messages give new heat, Raw truth sends chill feels. Death by death by the minute, Where is Hollywood's most broad. Catastrophe by country, This comic book chaos needs to stop. Protesters reeking havoc, Social media distorts what's real. Toronto politics lookin loopy, Landlord & tenant laws openly under veil. Scooby and shaggy uncover a hundred Frauds, yet still fear the devils friends. People seem to refuse to stop and drop, their pride, because it protects their remaining innocence.
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Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
remaining innocence
In the eyes of whom exactly?  In the eyes of the state? the state has many facets, the state functions with people who have lives, of humanity, of work days, of cups of coffee, of politics, of lack of movement, of diplomacy, of sweaty, of pushing and pulling, of treaties and binding treaties and the difference between the two, of norms?  of what kind of norms? and who enforces those norms?  and who is hungry Rights?  In the eyes of god?  Whose god?  the god, a god, one god, many, more, more coming, one has already arrived?  all is well, all is hell, of the spirit?  of the mind?  rights in the eyes of the conscious? what's for breakfast today?  can't remember, rights in the eyes of ethics?  work ethics?  agreements? harmony?  whose harmony? and who decides?  with democracy? ha, rights Watch me perform rights on youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laoAZpn84rg&feature;=youtu.be
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Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
Rights? Performance on Youtube*
A wave of thought always encircles you, A wave of yarn link to civic concern always involves you, A hope for change always enforces you, A longing for endeavouring cogent living always inspire you, Your brashness for a transformation yields this long journey, A journey for reflexion, inquest, elucidation and communication, Communiqué for an unfailing thinking and for an effort for human wellbeing! Now it is the time for us to continue this journey, A journey of unfurling thought for rationality, fairness and equality!
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Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
Remembering the envoy of makeover
We are our own darkness and we can be our own light. We are our own prison and we can be our own freedom. We are our own suffering and can be our own happiness. It's all in the mind, A fragile line between being bound and choosing to let go! What's holds you down is not people or rules What's holds you down is your own fetters When you choose to stay and not break away Who makes the rules that makes you stay Who binds you in discipline in the name of the law Who enforces them and pretends not to care Those who make these rules themselves will not obey? So I say to you, the only rule you need to follow Is the one engraved on your heart That is only one rule and that you must obey For the Son of Man sealed it and its still stands true Love one and another as I have you.
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Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 6:54 AM UTC
Break free..find the light!
i wasn't tired until you fell into my arms and i wasn't tired until i threw a thousand weightless snowdrops to the ground and i didn't hurt until the first word and now my home is a loud roar of reverberations that pass through me (like a million spoken knives) and i didn't understand pain. Until your somebody stumbled into me and i couldn't let go (because they were made of ash) and i felt the weight of so many somebodies (suddenly) and i began to think that - my existence (the sea the sky and the nothing between) manifested to pulverize the planet with each further strained breath until it can feel each pinprick loss of life it enforces. And maybe my rage forged bellowing stormclouds over deserts or made rivers flow backwards from storm surge (tear driven) but the somebody i'm not and the somebodies i carry will never be more threatening than a fadeaway wind that cries with the lone wolf.
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Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC
Bitter Breeze
stop and breathe again. something we forget. everythings okay. everythings okay. e-ver-eee-thing-z o-kaay the mantra rings like a church bell hanging from my arm. it says, "the trial is only followed by a phat party!" wakes up in a pool of his/her **** and ***** must've been a good night. or just dumb. probably both. no more apologies. no more clamping onto the ship for dear life. no more breakdowns and no more pointing fingers. This is Om. **** it and swallow it. It tastes like now, it tastes like forever. maybe it burns but its the milk that keeps me going. Flowing from the eye in the middle, the joy re-enforces the truth.
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May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 2:15 AM UTC
ReMinder (This is Om)
our sole material possessions, have become our deepest & solidified regrets: i count myself boastful, at having such a horde of possessions... works really well within a feng shui dynamic... which probably is a higher tier conceptualißation of the yin & yang... look! so much less time spent cleaning your materialistic worth, to peacock in a narcissus-mirror, that others will never seem to see: given they're also striving. failures? my most precious possessions... given that i'm the only person laughing-out-loud in the vicinity of a mile's worth of radius... yes, "solipsistic" laughter will always be deemed menacing... i swear to god... narcissus is the archetype of a vampire... for me, the story of him and echo has a different narrative chamber... he's a automaton, it's not that he fell in love with his reflection, it's that he never saw it! he was imbued with a automaton self-prefixation to do what was invested in him: to self-love... to me the whole conjuring of narcissus is very much akin to saying: narcissus is the father of the vampiric myth... to me he didn't see himself in the lake, there was no reflection, as a deity, his inner mode of "thinking" elevated him beyond the fickleness of a mortal creature, who does pander to his visage, once with mirror, now with photograph... by the way... you look thinner in a mirror than in a photograph... why? you're alone! oh, don't think about it -    these days "they're" weeding out intelligent people, not the dummies -     and i don't mean "idiots": i mean the status quo              enforces - stabilißer: the membrane layer                          of society; the only chance of success these days:    is the ability to teach yourself how to become bored; and that's going to be hard...    you don't have to teach yourself procrastination:     that's a pleasure...   but boredom? that's a chore... and you need to teach yourself that "quality".
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Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 11:00 AM UTC
21st century eugenics / revision of narcissus
our sole material possessions, have become our deepest & solidified regrets: i count myself boastful, at having such a horde of possessions... works really well within a feng shui dynamic... which probably is a higher tier conceptualißation of the yin & yang... look! so much less time spent cleaning your materialistic worth, to peacock in a narcissus-mirror, that others will never seem to see: given they're also striving. failures? my most precious possessions... given that i'm the only person laughing-out-loud in the vicinity of a mile's worth of radius... yes, "solipsistic" laughter will always be deemed menacing... i swear to god... narcissus is the archetype of a vampire... for me, the story of him and echo has a different narrative chamber... he's a automaton, it's not that he fell in love with his reflection, it's that he never saw it! he was imbued with a automaton self-prefixation to do what was invested in him: to self-love... to me the whole conjuring of narcissus is very much akin to saying: narcissus is the father of the vampiric myth... to me he didn't see himself in the lake, there was no reflection, as a deity, his inner mode of "thinking" elevated him beyond the fickleness of a mortal creature, who does pander to his visage, once with mirror, now with photograph... by the way... you look thinner in a mirror than in a photograph... why? you're alone! oh, don't think about it -    these days "they're" weeding out intelligent people, not the dummies -     and i don't mean "idiots": i mean the status quo              enforces - stabilißer: the membrane layer                          of society; the only chance of success these days:    is the ability to teach yourself how to become bored; and that's going to be hard...    you don't have to teach yourself procrastination:     that's a pleasure...   but boredom? that's a chore... and you need to teach yourself that "quality".
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21
I will encounter all barriers I will cross all the horizons I don’t require any carriers For taking fire from the sun Love is that force which enforces All the time it reinforces When your lips just endorse Then opens that path, that course Which takes us on a love ride Where we have invincible pride Where love takes its tide Then fragrance spreads far and wide You in me and I am in you Sue the force and ensue Where beauty always pursues Then time takes us through Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
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Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
Fragrance of Love
i found that modern people lie too much, because the preceding acts of investigation where treated as vanity, and indeed they are, compared to the contemporaries' acts of lying as brimful, the res plenus, the thing brimming with itself, no chance of an extinction of a self into creating something and disappearing, but rather the modern concern for pop music artists, creating nothing and constantly reappearing... not encapsulating the need for emptiness, but the drive to need an icon... a self-detachment worth a thermometer or a telescope, or a theory of relativity... they cite einstein alright, but einstein is just a headline to attract the eyes, rather than the article to attract the eyes... too few blind men exist to make the judgemental balance of the two accurate. i'm walking with a glass of whiskey with icecubes' jingling like skulls on a cannibal's necklace, and it's necessary to say: boy's reading milan kundera's the unbearable lightness of being boy leaves girl reading milan's *testament betrayed*, girl is too devastated by familial ties, boy meets the girl's grandmother who she denotes as her mother, boy eats dinner with the girl's mother who the girl denotes as sister... girl speaks of being abducted when younger... boy has no knowledge of psychiatric evaluation... enforces boy to wed her, taking contraceptive pills but faking taking them - it's the ideal: i'll **** you to orphan **** a society into benefits - odd, because with prostitutes i pulled out and ********** silently into a ****** after all, prostitutes don't want to be pregnant. she still persisted telling the boy: you just finished a degree of education, you have no safe career path... let's start a family, you say no, i'll ******* **** you... rubber rubber rubbing the same tree-hug later it's a laughing matter... as testified by my constant rubber sheath use of ****** **** me without one, her words, not mine: brown-nosing feminists of the **** & ***** already politicising the matter in favour of one night stands; i told you idiots before... cats are cheaper... i'd be jealous had you two phalluses to insert into both ***** and ****
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Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
cannibal's necklace
i found that modern people lie too much, because the preceding acts of investigation where treated as vanity, and indeed they are, compared to the contemporaries' acts of lying as brimful, the res plenus, the thing brimming with itself, no chance of an extinction of a self into creating something and disappearing, but rather the modern concern for pop music artists, creating nothing and constantly reappearing... not encapsulating the need for emptiness, but the drive to need an icon... a self-detachment worth a thermometer or a telescope, or a theory of relativity... they cite einstein alright, but einstein is just a headline to attract the eyes, rather than the article to attract the eyes... too few blind men exist to make the judgemental balance of the two accurate. i'm walking with a glass of whiskey with icecubes' jingling like skulls on a cannibal's necklace, and it's necessary to say: boy's reading milan kundera's the unbearable lightness of being boy leaves girl reading milan's *testament betrayed*, girl is too devastated by familial ties, boy meets the girl's grandmother who she denotes as her mother, boy eats dinner with the girl's mother who the girl denotes as sister... girl speaks of being abducted when younger... boy has no knowledge of psychiatric evaluation... enforces boy to wed her, taking contraceptive pills but faking taking them - it's the ideal: i'll **** you to orphan **** a society into benefits - odd, because with prostitutes i pulled out and ********** silently into a ****** after all, prostitutes don't want to be pregnant. she still persisted telling the boy: you just finished a degree of education, you have no safe career path... let's start a family, you say no, i'll ******* **** you... rubber rubber rubbing the same tree-hug later it's a laughing matter... as testified by my constant rubber sheath use of ****** **** me without one, her words, not mine: brown-nosing feminists of the **** & ***** already politicising the matter in favour of one night stands; i told you idiots before... cats are cheaper... i'd be jealous had you two phalluses to insert into both ***** and ****
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35
My little cousin asked, What is religion? I simply said, What my mother says is religion She puts down rules, I tend to break them She enforces, I tend to rebel She tries to convince, I argue Both of us reach an agreement I  find new rules that are of my comfort I'm now a religious boy and I am proud of it
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Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
Religion
They're misty eyes begin to bleed, As they look upon one who will lead. His hot hands complete this deed, Enforces pain on those who concede, Making life hell for those who succeed. This life is now guaranteed. So everyone now has finally agreed, The devil has landed and is ready to exceed.
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Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
The Risen has Landed
some people like to say, 'a poem's not a poem until you make it rhyme' in some respect I guess that's true, but the most important thing is getting your thoughts out on every line. some people like to say, 'you aren't a writer if your work's not published' but in truth that's not the case, as long as you enjoy yourself, you can jot until contented. some people say 'you can't write about that' but truthfully there are no boundaries, just do what comes easy, let your mind go on journeys. so when a person tells you you're no good or enforces you to stop, let them know you're a jotter, a scrawler, a hoper, a dreamer, and none of their words let you drop.
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Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
jotter, scrawler, hoper, dreamer
21st century has only provided us artists, indeed "artists" in terms of being able to read musical scripts, rather than write them, a bit like that fable of the two "intelligent" law enforces: one can read, the other can only write; all future art will only serve a pardon of plagiarism, and a clarinet player will be as much the artist to have produced borodin's prince igor polovtsian dances, as borodin himself, hunched in silence hallucinating each and every note. i use to cycle mad across the platitudes, i used to play squash two times a week, i used to pump iron in the gym thrice a week, i used to scale the crag in edinburgh with rock climbing shoes, i used to weigh 80kg at most... and if my memory serves me right, i never got laid, now the bubblier me at 115kg i'm more content than when i served such pitiable vanities of an invisible catwalk; i used to eat fruit compulsively, and drink only once a week - conscious of the calorie intake - now i eat fruit scarcely, and drink every day, and at 115kg i'm more content than when i was so self-conscious to be involved in feminine games of chase / reward / chase / reward, that game of translating pavlov; as it turns out there's a fulfilment in a celibacy without a monastic decree, as the joke resounds: dentist sooner a suicide, chemist sooner a bachelor.
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Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 7:12 AM UTC
game of translating pavlov